


Angels in the Bedroom

by Ennaejj



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Biology, Angel heat, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Canon Compliant, Cas has healthy wings, Dean-in-denial, Dubious Consent, First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Marathon Sex, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Team Free Love, Team Free Will, Threesome, Top Castiel, Wing Kink, right up until it gets super porny, somewhere in season ten, there is no mark of Cain, various povs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennaejj/pseuds/Ennaejj
Summary: When Cas shows up at the bunker covered in sweat and listing to the side, Sam and Dean know something's wrong.  Turns out there are a few things about angel biology Cas wasn't expecting to teach the Winchesters.This is wincestiel goodness--a first time threesome brought on by a fuck or die scenario.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to update this once a week until it is finished.

When Cas stumbled onto the entryway landing, listing to the side, both Winchesters jumped from where they sat at the war-room map and rushed up the steps to his aid. They each took an arm, keeping him upright, helping him walk down the stairs as he glanced numbly around the room.

Sam's heart jumped in his chest. _Not again_ \--

Cas's cheeks were pallid, his clothes rumpled and his hair a mess. He smelled strongly of the wind, and Sam realized he must have flown to their door. He tripped over his own feet as they reached the main floor, and Dean hefted him upright.

There were only a few things that sent Cas to the bunker unannounced and disheveled. None of them good.

Before Sam could get a word out, Dean was already on top of it, concern furrowing his brow and sharpening his gaze. "What do we got this time?" he asked, wrapping one hand tightly around Cas's bicep while the other clutched at Cas's chin, forcing blue eyes to meet green.

"Angels," Cas gasped, leaning into Dean's touch. Castiel swallowed harshly, his entire body tilting further toward Dean, like he meant to lay on him, to fling his arms around him. Like he wanted to give all of his weight to Dean to carry. The angel's skin was clammy around his collar, and he shivered beneath the Winchesters' fingers.

"Of course," Dean said as they helped him to a chair at one of the tables. "Always with the frigging angels."

Sam backed away to give Cas some breathing room. "Can I get you something? Cold rag, cup of coffee?" Cas always gravitated toward human comfort after he'd come up against it in a fray. Yeah, maybe he could use a wet washcloth or a thick blanket to ground himself.

"No, thank you, Sam," Castiel said politely, never one to ask for the little things, even when he needed them. He hung his head, grasping at his temples.

Maybe Sam would get him a wet rag anyway.

While Sam gave the angel his space, Dean continued fisting the arm of Cas's trench coat, leaning over him in the chair, as though he couldn't bring himself to let go. After a moment, Dean inclined toward Cas's hair, head bobbing slightly like he was--sniffing?

Sam frowned. Nah, that couldn't be what he-- But then Cas's head lolled to one side, exposing his neck, and Dean casually brushed the tip of his nose against the pale column of Cas's throat. The nuzzle lasted half a blink--probably no one else would have noticed--but Sam's instincts prickled.

Maybe that washcloth could wait.

"Okay," Dean continued, seemingly unaware of how he was clutching at Cas and invading his personal space. "So what are we dealing with? New war in Heaven? A pissed off ex-Cas-junkie? Metatron devotees? What?"

Cas shook his head in his hands. "Biological imperatives."

A cold beat passed. "How's that?" Sam asked.

"I'm approaching my estrus."

Simultaneously, the Winchesters jerked backwards. Dean held his hands out in front of him like he could shove the words back in Cas's mouth. "Whoa, whoa. Estrus? As in, _heat_?"

"Yes."

"You?"

" _Yes_."

"Buddy, hate to break this to you, but you're a dude. Dude's don't go into heat."

"Hate to break it to you, Dean," Sam said reasonably. "But Cas is not a dude."

"I'm a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent," Cas agreed.

Dean waved his hands haphazardly, an over-emphasized frown on his face. Dean always had been a drama queen. "All I'm hearing is that Cas is _not_ a female dog, so--"

"Thank you for that observation," Cas snapped. "The fact remains: I am about to succumb to the baser pulses of my grace, and I need someplace to lay low until it's over." He glanced between them, expression equal parts pained and embarrassed. "That is, if it's not too much to ask…"

Sam moved in to pat him on the shoulder. "No. I mean, sure. Of course. We've got you covered."

"Thank you. I'll need a warded room. Something that keeps me from flying away. Not holy fire--something less oppressive--I'll show you. And you would do well to put physical locks on the doors. Sturdy ones."

Sam watched with a narrowed gaze as Dean inched forward and leaned in again, once more closer to Cas than was normal. "Whatever you need," Dean said, his voice low and soft.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "This, uh, cycle of yours. I assume you want to hide away in the bunker because you're still not on the best of terms with Heaven--?"

"Yes. Estrus leaves angels very vulnerable, and very easy to find. I think my pheromone trail is already strengthening. I was approached on the side of the road by Alma, an angel I haven't seen in centuries. She was very forward."

Sweat was beginning to gather on Cas's forehead, and his cheeks were flushed pink. He ran his hands through his hair, spiking it up like in the old days. "I can feel...there's an itch. We need to get the warding in place as soon as possible."

"Alright. But is there anything else Dean and I need to know? Are we going to be affected by your pheromones?" His eyes flicked up to study Dean. Dean, whose pupils were dilated and breathing was shallow, whose eyes were hooded and fingers were unconsciously skimming along the sleeve of Cas's coat.

"No. It'll only affect nearby angels. But you can't let me leave. I'll want to leave, but you can't let me. There are too many in the host who would kill me as soon as merge with me, and I won't be conscious enough of my actions to perceive which is which."

"Don't worry," Dean said, his voice still a low thrum. He took hold of one strap on the trench coat and began rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. "We'll take care of you."

It wasn't a direct, matter-of-fact, _we're taking care of you so hang tight and buckle up_. It was...sweet. It was soothing. Sensual. It was...

Kind of creeping Sam the hell out.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam said, clearing his throat. "A word?" He nodded over at the book case.

Dean rounded the table to join Sam in a huddle next to eighteenth-century printings of _The Iliad_ and _Beowulf_. "What?" he asked, oblivious.

"I'm not sure Cas knows what he's talking about."

"Dude, it's his body--er--grace. Whatever. I'm sure he understands it better than we do."

"I mean about the pheromones not affecting humans."

"Ha ha, why? You jonesing for a little angel-action, Sammy?"

"No, but _you_ are."

Dean pulled a face. "No I'm not."

"You keep touching him."

"No I don't."

"And you were...you sniffed him."

"No I didn't."

Sam answered Dean's skeptical expression with a sour frown. "Whatever. Just pay attention to your hands, okay?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Just pay attention," he whispered harshly before striding back to Cas. "All right. Tell us what we need to do to keep you safe."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they'd gotten a spare room set up and warded, Cas was already panting with every breath. His tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned to the waist. Sweat had the white cotton sticking to him obscenely, but he still refused to shed his trench and his suit jacket.

The three of them stood just inside the door. Cas examined the sigils one last time, making sure not a line was out of place.

They'd made up the room much like Dean's, sans weaponry. Just little touches here and there to make it feel homey. Well-fluffed pillows, bottles of water--Cas was sweating so much, they figured it was possible he couldn't maintain his vessel's normal levels of hydration--a few scented candles labeled 'calming jasmine' ("I have no idea where these came from," Dean insisted when he brought them in), and the like.

"Thank you," Cas said, his voice more gravel-filled than usual. "Everything appears secure. I've never had this happen while occupying a vessel. It's strange. Uncomfortable."

"How long will it last?" Sam asked.

"In Heaven it can go on for decades."

Sam's eyes went wide. Dean's eyes went, well, sort of... _dreamy_.

"I have reason to believe the period will be heavily compressed on Earth," Cas added quickly. "A few days, most likely." His knees began to shake, and he abruptly stumbled to the bed. "I--I'm fine. This is good. You need to leave. Soon I'll be... inconsolable."

"Insatiable?" Dean breathed, barely a whisper. He eyed Cas the way Sam had seen Dean eye every piece of pie ever. No, scratch that--it was the way he eyed every piece of pie he _couldn’t have_.

Cas clawed at his bare chest, his blunt nails leaving red lines across his pectorals. "Insatiable, yes. And I'll want... I'll beg you to... It won't matter that you're not angels. It's the vessel--its urges will be wrapped up with my grace's urges and... It'll be very confusing."

"It's okay, you don’t need to explain," Sam insisted. He grabbed Dean by the shoulder. "Come on."

But Dean was like a monolith--a stone that had been fixed in place for centuries. He refused to budge, his eyes full of _want want want_. Dean swallowed thickly, his adam's apple bobbing with the effort. Every muscle in his body seemed to strain against his skeleton, urging him forward--toward Cas--though he remained rooted to the spot.

"Dean," Sam insisted, tugging harder. He glanced at Cas, concerned, but the angel was in his own little world now: eyes shut, hands pressing over his own form, palms skating here and there to touch exposed flesh.

Dean's gaze followed the path of Cas's fingers, his stare ravenous. When Cas fisted the sides of his dress shirt and ripped it open, Dean flinched. Then his eyes slipped closed. He seemed to be...imagining things.

" _Dean_ ," Sam barked again.

"What?" He snapped out of it--seemingly unaware that'd he'd ever been _in_ it. "Chill." He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode out the door while Sam shot bitch-face at his back.

"We'll check on you, okay?" Sam assured Cas.

"Don't open the door," Cas said quickly, desperately. He swallowed harshly, his eyes still tightly shut.

"We won't open the door," Sam agreed, inching his way out.

On the outside of the room, they'd installed several locks and heavy bolts. Sam secured all of them while Dean leaned against the opposite wall, gaze boring into his brother's spine.

"Here," Dean said when Sam was done, holding out his hand. "I'll man the keys."

Sam turned around slowly, the keyring clutched tightly in his fist. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't want you jumping him in the middle of the night," Sam retorted.

"I'm not gonna jump him," Dean said, with his usual _what are you on?_ level of cynicism.

"Oh really?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "Don't give me that shit, Dean. Your face is flushed, you're fidgeting like you don’t know what to do with your hands." He gestured blatantly at Dean's crotch. "And if that's not a hard-on you're sporting, I'd like to know what you're stuffing in there. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Dean ran his palms over his face and turned his back on Sam. "I don’t know," he growled at the wall. "You don't--you don't feel that? You don't _smell_ him?"

"No, I don’t." He bit his tongue, clamping down on questions like, _feel what? What does he smell like?_ and _What does it make you want to do to him?_ Instead he asked, "Why--how can _you_? Shouldn’t it be affecting both of us or neither of us?"

"I don't know," he said weakly, resting his forehead against the cool bricks.

From inside the room, Cas let out a feral howl. It was needy, and wanton, and Dean's head snapped around like it was the call to action he'd been waiting for his entire life.

But to Dean's credit, he didn’t lunge for the door. He didn't tackle Sam to try and wrestle away the keys. He simply whimpered.

Sam pursed his lips pityingly. "Hey, we've got a couple of angel books--"

"Cas said those are 'inaccurate.'"

"Why don't we go over them anyway, and see if we can't find something to ease him through this? Or, or maybe ease _you_ through this. Okay?"

Dean nodded, still fixated on the door. "Yeah, okay."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, get this," Sam said, setting a thick sixteenth-century tome next to Dean on the war-room's main table. He underlined the translated section with his finger as he read, "'Though angels reproduce, their mating is not in any sense similar to terrestrial reproduction, nor could it sincerely be described as 'sex' or 'intercourse'--not when the angles are in their true forms. Most often, reproduction is referred to as a 'merger.' All mergers consist of two or more angels. There is no limit to the number of celestial beings that can reproduce together in a single merging, and the greater the number of angels involved, the quicker new offspring come into being. Angel mating is a tangling of wavelengths that lasts until the building energies resonate and produce an offshoot of energy--a new wavelength. A new angel.'"

"That's great, Sammy," Dean said, voice heavy with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Fascinating. But I don't know what to do with that, since Cas is not a wavelength right now and I am not a celestial being of any kind."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting himself. He let out a faint, strangled whimper as he repositioned his cock in its denim prison.

"This is important," Sam insisted. "This helps us understand how Cas is feeling. In his true form, it's not a big deal. It's not sexual the way we think of things as sexual. It's just a thing that needs done, so they do it. A new angel needs making, so they make it, like they'd make anything else. The estrus period is kind of like, I don't know, an alarm going off, telling some of them, 'hey, our numbers are dwindling, we need to fill out the ranks, hurry up and make more soldiers so we can all go about our business.'"

"That is _not_ what he's feeling now," Dean said pointedly.

"No. It also says that those who've taken vessels are supposed to abandon them and return to Heaven when estrus hits. He's not supposed to be here."

Dean nodded slowly, "Because vessels make it complicated."

"Yeah, it's like their wires get crossed. The vessel understands reproduction as sex, and the push to merge from the grace ends up expressing itself in terrestrial terms."

"Sure. But what does the book say about my--" he made a V with both hands, pointing below the table-- "Reaction?"

"All it says... It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't apply to you. It says that if an angel's _former_ vessel encounters it during its estrus while it's possessing a _new_ vessel, then the _former_ vessel may experience a physical response. Arousal, in other words."

"I've never been Cas's vessel," Dean said indignantly.

"I know, that's why I said--"

Dean pushed his chair back and stood. "I've never been _anyone's_ vessel."

"Yeah, I know. Dean, I get it."

"Hell, you-- _you've_ been a vessel. You've been ridden by no less than three separate sons a bitches."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. "Thanks for that."

"No, what I mean is--if either of us was going to react to this grace-alarm or whatever, shouldn't it have been you?"

"I haven’t been his vessel either. The book is very specific. If I encountered Gadreel, or--" Sam gagged-- "Or Lucifer during estrus, then apparently I'd be at risk. But this is Cas."

"Right," Dean said, gesturing sharply. "Cas, who has never possessed me, _ever_."

 "I don't have an explanation for you."

Dean scowled at the text. "You know, you'd think the Sisyphus-worshiping monks who sat around all day contemplating angel whoopee could've spent a little more time-- _ah_." He bent over, clutching at his thighs, face clenched as an extreme sensation washed over him.

Sam moved to help. "What is it?"

"No, don't--" Dean flinched away from Sam's hands. "Don't touch me. I think it's..." His face flushed, and he couldn't meet his brother's eyes. "I think I can partially feel what he's feeling. Like estrus ESP."

"Is he all right? Is he in trouble?"

"Not exactly," Dean gasped.

"Do we need to help him--?"

Dean grabbed the back of the chair, using it for support as another wave of sensation hit him. "I think he's, uh, got the _situation_ in _hand_ , if you catch my drift."

Sam straightened. "Oh. Oh god--"

"Yeah, if you could not look at me right now, that would be awesome." Dean bit back a moan.

Sam turned away immediately, face blanching. This was all kinds of fucked up. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, man, I--gnh--want you to figure out how to fix it."

"What if I can't fix it? What if you both just have to ride it out?"

 The chair squeaked across the tiles, and Sam looked back. Dean's legs had given out. He tried to cling to the chair, but it was no good. In the next instant he slid to his hands and knees, knuckles going white as he scraped at the floor. "Then--then he has to--" Dean panted. "Then he's gotta stop touching himself." His back bowed and his shoulders rolled. "God, Sam, I don't think he even knows what he's doing. Doesn't know _how_ to do it. It's not--ngh--not _helping_." Dean's arms trembled, and his elbows faltered. He dropped his cheek to the tile. " _Make him stop_. He has to stop."

"Okay, just don't go anywhere." Same ran a trembling hand through his hair before springing into action.

Skidding out of the war room, he flew down the hall, taking the occasional set of steps at a leap. "Caaaas?" He called out as he approached the room.

Grunting emanated from inside. It was deep and dirty, and a bit pitiful. There was something so _frustrated_ about the tone that it made Sam's heart ache.

"Cas?" Sam said, pressing up against the doorjamb. "Whatever you're doing in there, you need to know--uh--there's something wrong with Dean."

The grunts stopped. "Wh-what is it?"

"He can kinda... Your pheromones or whatever... he can sense them. And he can _feel_ you, I guess. I don't know, Cas, but he says you have to stop--" Sam gulped-- "You've gotta stop doing whatever you're doing right now."

"Why?"

"Because you're doing it wrong?" Sam said apologetically.

"How does one _do it wrong_?"

Oh god, Sam could hear the air quotes. "I don't know, but--"

"It's so hot in here, Sam. But my skin is cold. And I need to be touched. My vessel wants contact, it _needs_ \--"

"Yeah, yeah. Say no more. I'll uh, tell Dean to deal with it?"

"I don’t know why he's being affected. Tell him I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this unpleasant for both of us."

 _It's turning out to be unpleasant for all of us_ , Sam wanted to say, but he refrained.

"I know that my touching my vessel won't stop the heat, but I can't--I _need_ \--"

"Jesus, Cas, you don't have to spell it out."

 "Just, tell him I'm sorry."

"Okay."

"And, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I won't be coherent for much longer. I may...my state may become such that I... It's going to be very humiliating for me. If I lose the capacity to speak, please just let me be."


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean _'He's not gonna stop'_?"

Dean had managed to pull himself into a chair once again. Now he curled into himself, the nails of his right hand digging into his left arm as he did his best not to grope himself in front of his brother. His dick pulsed--not the steady, internal throbbing of his blood through his veins, but a swift, external _stroke, stroke, stroke_.

Sam shrugged. "I don't think he can help himself. He said he's not going to be coherent much longer, and I think that means he's gonna get, kinda..." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Kinda what, Sam?" Dean gritted out.

"Animalistic?"

"Well that's just _perfect_. Frigging _awesome_."

"How do you feel? Is it just, like, echoes of what he's doing, or are you going to--?"

"Turn into a rabid humping-machine, too? Nah. As far as I can tell, my mind's all there." He laughed grimly. "It's my lower half that can't get a grip."

Sam scowled.

"Oh, give me a break," Dean barked. "Puns are all I have right now."

The strokes were getting rougher, reckless. It was too good and all wrong and he just wanted it to end and wanted to be alone and wanted to cry out--

He wasn't going to come this way, which should have been purely A Good Thing™, except that he couldn't concentrate on anything else, and there was no talking his hard-on away.

Because, technically, the boner wasn't even _his_.

Right?

 _Stupid fucking angel mating season--or whatever_. Okay, so Sam made it sound like it wasn't a regular thing, but still.

Worse than the steel rod in his pants was the damn air. Bunker air was supposed to be musty, and a little cold. The place was supposed to smell like the stuffy librarian-locker that it was. It wasn't supposed to smell _sweet_. Like--honeysuckle? And something else that made his balls tight, something--he gulped down the word-- _masculine_. And the temperature should be just on this side of frigid, not a god-awful kind of warm; warm in a way that wasn't a thick warm, or a blanket warm, but a _flesh_ warm.

Dean fumbled out of his chair, trying once more to find the steady footing that alluded him.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, his suspicion blatant.

"I'm going to the shower room, _Mom_. Wanna hold my hand on the way?"

 "Why the shower room?"

" _Why do you think_? Maybe if I toss one off my junk will quit it with the--the--"

"Mambo de Angelus?"

"Shut up."

"Do what you have to do. But don't bother Cas."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," he grumbled as he hurried out of the room, walking with an uncomfortable hitch due to his predicament. _Like I'm gonna bother Cas. Believe me, if there's one thing I don’t need right now it's to catch another whiff of that angelic cologne he's sporting, or to hear another one of those deep, hungry, greedy, sexy_...

His brain stalled for a moment.

 _Come on, Winchester, you're better than this_ , he groused at himself.

To get to the shower room he had to pass the hall where Cas was locked away.

 _Just run by, you can do it_.

As he approached the gaping-maw that lead toward angelic-bliss, he started a jog, but quickly abandoned the idea as the motion emphasized the heaviness between his legs, making his dick and balls jump together and press against his jeans in a delicious symphony. _Not gonna make it to the shower that way…nope_.

He stuffed his palm between his legs, letting his eyes rollback as he cupped himself. He was painfully on edge, harder than he'd been in a long while. Every little brush heightened his arousal, and as he passed the dreaded hall, a deep moan--dark and decadent--curled around his ears and down into his belly.

His balls pulled tight and he doubled over again, bracing himself against the wall.

Fuck.

 _This is_ Cas, he told himself. _Stop it, he's your friend. Your_ friend. _Remember all those times you kicked him out of your spank-bank? Even though you really, really wanted to jerk it to those blue eyes and those perfect lips and those--stop it. Yeah, all that? That was training for_ this. _The dude doesn't need you skeeving all over him while he's got it bad, stupid fucking pheromones or not, okay? Okay_.

"Dean?" His name reverberated down the hall, growled out.

Shit.

"Dean?" Cas called again. This time it carried a panicked up-turn at the end.

Dean's heart constricted in his chest. Cas sounded so worried, and a little scared. He couldn't just leave him to suffer alone.

Forgetting his urgent rush to the shower, Dean hurried to the locked door. "I'm here, Cas," he said, voice breaking. The stroking sensation had stopped--Cas was no longer touching himself.

A satisfied rumble emanated from the other side of the door. "Let me out," the angel commanded. "Please."

"Buddy, you know I can't. You said--"

"I ache," Cas groaned. "You can make it stop."

Dean's mouth went dry. "No, I can’t. Because I'm not an angel."

"Don't want an angel," he said, sounding wholly unlike himself. Every word carried an animal edge, like he was struggling to speak, to vocalize anything more complex than a moan. "Please, Dean. I can smell…" there was a scrape at the wood, like blunt nails running down the door frame. "Want to touch you. Need to…to rub my cock against you."

Dean's dick jumped and throbbed. He took two steps away from the door, not trusting himself. "Shut up," he whispered, so quiet he was sure only he could hear it.

The door suddenly shook. Cas had thrown something--himself?--against it. "Need it, Dean. _Need it_. Dean. _Dean_."

Dean hadn't realized he was still backing up until he ran bodily into the wall. The door shook again and he drew his shaking hands over his face.

"Help me," Cas pleaded, and for a moment he sounded like the Cas Dean knew.

And then it started again. Light at first, the delicate sensation of finger tips dancing up and down his shaft. Then a firm grip and--dear god--something wet, like Cas was drooling on his own dick to ease the slide.

"Fuuuck," Dean groaned. It was so good. He'd lied to Sam when he'd told him Cas didn't know what he was doing. Cas knew _exactly_ what he was doing. And Dean's dick felt like it was going to burst because of it.

"I could put my mouth on you," Cas growled. "We could fuck, Dean. I could fuck you so good. So good. Could fuck, ugn…" he devolved into a series of grunts, which punctuated every slide of his slickened palm over his cockhead.

Dean's mind went hazy--maybe all the blood had finally drained out of his brain and pooled in his hard-on. He sunk to his knees and crawled across the floor, wetting his lips, wishing he could get them around Cas's cock.

Why did they have the door locked again? If he and Cas wanted to fuck, why was that so bad? Why was Sam keeping them apart? Why?

He shuffled over to the door and pressed himself against it, whimpering while Cas continued to growl.

Cas threw himself at the door again, pounding into it over and over, rattling Dean's bones. "Need--" Cas snarled. "Need--Need--Fuck--"

After a few moments, Dean heard footsteps barreling down the hall towards him. But he didn’t get up, he kept himself pressed to the crease of the door, where he could best smell Cas.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, yanking him away, staring at the door in mortification. Cas continued to pound into it. "What the fuck are you doing?" Sam demanded, shaking Dean. "You said you wouldn't bother him."

Dean looked up at him from his hands and knees, eyes glassy, breath coming in soft pants. "Sammy. Sammy, he _needs_ me."

"No. He came here because he feels safe here. He _is_ safe here. He needs us to protect him. Even from us."

"He's hurting. Please, please let me help him."

 "Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?"

 _What the hell_ is _wrong with me_? He couldn't give in to Cas's heat. It was wrong, it wasn't what Cas wanted. That was why they'd warded and locked the door, because they were protecting Cas.

But, something wasn't right. He could feel it in his gut. There was a sick feeling just beyond the wall of lust. "Sam, did you…" his throat felt thick, it was difficult to speak. "Did you read all there was about the merging?"

"No, I'm not done yet. Why?"

He grabbed the front of Sam's shirt, using it to heft himself upright while Sam countered his weight. "I think something's wrong."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bahaha--okay, I couldn't help myself. This is the last chapter tonight, then it's on to weekly updates, I swear.

Dean slung an arm around Sam, and the two of them hobbled back to the books. "Why is it so important for him to abandon his vessel during estrus, huh?" Dean asked. "I mean, I get that he can't make little baby wavelengths if _he's_ not a wavelength, but all he has to do is return to Heaven for that, not give up his meatsuit. Something's fishy."

Sam dropped Dean in a chair. "Maybe it's to avoid the creation of Nephilim? I mean, you tell me, if Cas was free to roam the Earth right now would he--?"

Dean scrubbed at his cheeks. "Be making it with every Tom, Dick and Sally? Yeah, probably."

Sam nodded curtly, as though they'd resolved the issue. "Alright, then. If he's not in his human male vessel then he can't get a human woman pregnant, so there you have it."

A tight shiver ran across Dean's shoulders in counter point to the tugging in his pants. "I donno, Sam. It feels…Just keep reading." He rolled his shoulders and his neck, crossed and uncrossed his legs.

"You going to be okay?" Sam asked. "I mean, if I look away for two seconds, you're not gonna go bang down his door again, are you?"

"You wanna handcuff me to the chair or throw me in the dungeon? No? Then pass a book and keep your eyes away from my crotch."

Dean tried to read, but his vision kept blurring. In his mind's eye, Cas was stretched out on his back on the bed. Trench off, tie off, coat and shirt unbuttoned and splayed wide, slightly damp from sweat. His shoes and socks were off, his belt and pants were undone, and his long, thick cock jutted out from his dress slacks.

Dean tried to talk himself down, to convince himself not to imagine such things, but it was almost like Cas was willing the images to him. If he tried to erase it or look away, the tugging at his crotch became more frantic.

_Was_ the fantasy coming directly from Cas? Could he project something like that directly into Dean's mind? He'd invaded Dean's dreams plenty of times, but this felt different.

Still, Dean shook his head, attempting to concentrate on the books.

The Cas in his mind snarled, apparently unhappy Dean was ignoring him. One hand went to his hair, stroking through it. The other worked firmly but slowly at his flushed cock, and his back bowed up off the bed.

Dean made a strangled whine in the back of his throat. Sam eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing.

This was Dean's worst nightmare. Fucking sexy-ass angel twenty feet away, begging to be sexed-up--begging to be sexed-up _by Dean_ \--and there was nothing he could do about it.

At least he had this fucked up mojo-grace-pheromone shit to blame his erection on.

If he had his way he'd never out himself to Sam or Cas. They didn't need to know he swung both ways. Sam didn't need to know cuz the dude didn’t need a reason to make more 'dick' jokes than he already did, and Cas didn't need to know because…because…

_Because he's Cas_.

The Cas in Dean's mind kicked off his slacks and pulled up his knees, planting his feet firmly on the edge of the bed. There was something absolutely fucking delicious about him still wearing his shirt and suit jacket while naked from the waist down.

The hand in his hair tugged firmly, and Cas bared his neck, while the hand on his cock roamed lower, squeezing his balls, rolling them between his fingers.

Dean moaned and dropped his forehead to the table top. "What did I do to deserve this?" he said out loud.

"What's the matter now?" Sam asked.

"You don’t want to know."

"You're one-hundred percent right about that, but if you think something's wrong, then--"

"He's giving me a mental strip show. No, a mental--a mental _porno_." He glanced up. "Happy now?" he snarked.

Sam flushed, his cheeks redder than Dean had seen them in a long time. "So he's…showing you…"

"Himself, Sam. He's spread out like a fuckable dessert and now he's--" _dear God_ \-- "Fingering himself, if that's what you want to know."

Sam averted his eyes and blushed brighter. "Sorry, you don't have to give me details."

"Maybe I should, so I'm not the only one suffering." _Yeah_ , Dean said to himself. _Make him think you hate it. Make him think you're mortified because you can't fathom having a hard-on for a guy, yet here we are_. "Times like these, I really wish Cas had picked a vessel with tits."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Times like these?"

"You know what I mean."

Sam's flush abated, and he smirked instead. "No, I don't. You've wished Cas had tits before? Like, you'd have fucked him already if he was in a female vessel?"

"No, dude. This is Cas." _This is Cas_. Why did he keep saying that--thinking that--like it was the ace up his sleeve?

He had to bring this back around. He could see the gears in Sammy's head working, and that was never a good thing. "He's got two fingers in his ass now," he said, though it wasn't true. Cas had barely played with the rim of his asshole before spitting into his hand and gently massaging the base of his dick.

Sam blanched. "I said I _don't need_ the details. Especially since…"

_Since I can feel everything he's doing_ , Dean realized, blushing himself.

_Great, now Sam thinks I'm sitting here with two of Cas's ghost-fingers up my ass_.

Sam swallowed thickly. "How…how is it?"

Dean frowned. "Dude. Line--" he lifted his head and dragged his finger over the top of the table-- "Crossed."

Sam held up his hands. "Okay, sorry. Sorry."

The dark-purple head of Cas's dick gave a sinful splurt of precum. The clear bead oozed down his shaft, and Dean's tongue flicked out of his mouth as though he could catch the droplet. He buried his face against the table again, unable to look at Sam.

Cas's body was red all over and covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looked feverish--and not just from arousal.

"But I don't care," Dean groaned. "We've been crossing lines all day and I'm ready to cross some more if that'll get this over with quicker. I'm going to keep giving you a play-by-play until you bring me something new about angel heats."

"Fine, I get the message," Sam said, opening a new volume and diving in.

Dean peeked at him again and noticed he was still flushed. He also seemed to be crossing and uncrossing his legs more than usual.

_Great. Now we're all fucked_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter already because I have no self control...

"Shit."

Dean lifted his head. He'd been carefully palming himself under the table, hoping Sam wouldn’t notice. Cas had gotten rougher with himself over the last few minutes, jerking wildly until frustration overtook him and he'd flipped onto his front. Now he had a pillow bunched between his legs and was fucking into it with abandon. The angle Cas gave him was pure torture--Dean was watching from behind, could see Cas's ass in the air, his balls pressed into the pillow, and his asshole fluttering.

"Tell me you got something," he begged Sam.

"Yeah, and it's not good." Sam cleared his throat. "This says it's vitally important angels leave their vessels during estrus because their vibrating grace can burn through a vessel if the energy isn't consistently released."

"Consistently released--what does that mean?"

Sam dropped the book and ran a hand over his mouth. "When they merge, it's a buildup of vibrations, right? Of energies. And it looks like it kind of builds on its own, with or without a partner, and if the energy isn't released constantly, then… It's like a pressure valve on a steam engine--"

Dean cursed at himself. "I get it. If the excess isn't siphoned off, then it builds until the vessel goes kabluey."

Sam sighed, "Right. So, is he managing? You haven't…I mean, if you have you've done a good job hiding it."

"What are you asking?"

"Orgasms, Dean. Has he come yet? That seems to be what the book means by 'consistent release.' He's got to keep coming until it's over, or else he could lose the vessel."

A sharp panic hit Dean in the chest. "He hasn't come at all. He keeps, he keeps rutting into the bed and shit, but he hasn't come yet."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, ask him."

"Can we? Is he still with it enough to talk?"

Dean took a hard look at the scene playing out behind his eyes. Cas had his face scrunched in concentration, his eyes screwed shut, his body trembling and just _thrusting thrusting thrusting_. "I honestly don't know."

"Do you think he might soon? Come, I mean?"

"I don't see why he hasn't already."

"Then we don't really have a choice. We need to talk to him. Maybe he doesn't know his vessel's in danger. Could be he thinks he _shouldn't_ come."

Sam hurried out of the room, with Dean limping after. When Sam arrived at the door, Dean hung back, covering his nose and mouth with his hand, trying to breathe shallowly, sure that another direct whiff of Cas would send him scraping at the door like a dog again.

With a stiff gulp and a sideways glance at Dean, Sam knocked. "Hey, Cas? We've got a question."

Grunting. Shuffling. Thumping. The door shook in its frame and Sam reeled back. "Actually," he said slowly, "I guess we don’t need to ask so much as tell. You, um, we don't know if you're trying to keep yourself from orgasming or not, but you need to let yourself come, okay?"

A deep bark and grumble followed.

"What's he doing?" Sam asked Dean. "Can you see?"

"Yeah, he's, uh, he's pacing in front of the door, like he's trying to figure out the locks."

"Great," Sam huffed. "Any indication he understood me?"

Dean shook his head and shrugged.

Sam ran his hands through his hair, then over his face. "I guess if he loses the vessel, he loses the vessel."

Dean was taken aback. "What? No."

"There's not much we can do, Dean, if he's not lucid enough to understand us."

The panicky feeling returned to Dean's chest, reinvigorating his limbs. He stood a little taller, took a step toward his brother. "No, Sam. He can't lose this vessel. If he burns through his Jimmy-suit--his Jimmy-suit that he owns _free-and-clear_ , by the way--then he has to look for another. He has to take over some other poor shmuck and put some other family out. You want what happened to Claire to happen to some other kid? He _needs_ this vessel, Sam."

"I hear you, I do, but what choice do we have? I don't want anyone else to have to sacrifice themselves, but if he can't figure out how to release his energy--hell, maybe he can’t without a partner--then there's nothing we can do."

"That's not true," Dean said sternly. "I can help him. Let me help him."

Sam waved his hands erratically. "No. No, Dean, this isn't even you talking, it's the stupid pheromones and that porno running through your brain."

"No, Sam, it's not. Look at me. Look. I'm as sober and aware as I've ever been. We are not going to let this happen to Cas. Not if there's something we can do about it."

"Dean, we don't even know if it's safe."

Dean shook his head, bewildered. "Whadayou mean? Of course it's safe, it's Cas we're talking about. He's not gonna hurt me."

"Did you not hear what I said back there? Consistent release. _Constant_ release. This isn't a one-and-done, Dean. And he's an _angel_. Even when he's in control, sometimes he doesn't know his own strength. He could snap you in half without even thinking about it."

"He's not going to hurt me."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's _Cas_."

Sam fell silent. He shuffled in place, hands fidgeting. "I don't like it. It's not going to go how you think, Dean."

"Sam--"

Sam held up a finger. "I'll let you do it, but I'm not leaving you alone with him."

"Really?" Dean pulled a face. "You're going to watch?"

"We're crossing lines today, remember? You're going to save Cas, and I'm going to be there in case someone has to save you."

"Fine."

"Fine."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have chapter seven today too, cuz apparently I'm really bad at this whole scheduled update thing. I don't wanna wait.

_I can't believe I'm doing this. This is so fucked up_. Dean wasn't sure if it was fucked up because it was one of his quashed fantasies come to life, or because he was about to offer himself up as a sexual sacrifice to sate the needs of the most asexual angel he'd ever met.

Maybe that was why he always felt like it was wrong to rub one out to the idea of coming all over Cas's eyelashes, or Cas fucking himself on a dildo, or Cas sucking--

 _Yeah, okay. Quit it_.

Maybe it wasn't just because Cas was his best friend and it felt like some sort of violation of trust to fantasize about him. Maybe it was because Cas just seemed so disinterested in sex that it felt weird to sex him up in Dean's own mind.

_He's not disinterested now…_

_Sure, but will he respect me in the morning?_

_…Will he be able to look me in the eye in the morning?_

_…Is this going to fuck shit up forever?_

_Suck it up, Winchester. He needs you._

While Sam rounded up some supplies--lube, snacks, more water, holy oil just in case--Dean went to his room and stripped. He threw on his dead-guy robe and padded down to the showers, quickly soaping himself up and washing himself down, making sure he was prepared for the sex-a-thon Sam had promised.

_God, how fucking weird is it that Sammy'll be there?_

Compared to everything else, Dean realized, not that weird. Maybe even kind of comforting.

Good ol' Winchester fuckedupness through and through.

Fresh and clean, he met Sam at Cas's door. Sam had changed into a pair of draw-string sweats and a t-shirt. Dean understood; no need to be any more uncomfortable than the situation required.

"If something goes south, you've gotta tell me right away," Sam said. He pulled an angel-blade from the back of his waist band.

"Whoa, whoa, we're not gonna--"

"The whole point is to save him, remember. But this might give us a fighting chance if he gets violent. I won't hurt him, Dean, of course not. But we need protection."

Dean choked on his own tongue. "Wow. That's the same thing Cas… Sex, protection, angel-blade--remember?"

Sam laughed at himself. "Yeah, I know, I heard it. But, speaking of…?"

Dean looked at his feet sheepishly. "No, I didn't bring any."

"Oh, did you expect me to, cuz I can go--"

"No, I figured, well, if we're going to be doing this for a while, those things start to chafe. And I'm clean, and Cas is an angel, and if there's anything in the mix he can magic it away afterwards, right?" Dean looked up suddenly, "Unless you think angels and humans can have babies regardless of…I mean, there's no way him and me can make a…right?"

"Pretty sure you're safe there."

"I wasn't looking for a 'pretty sure.'"

"You're good, Dean. You're good."

"Okay. Good."

A desperate groan emanated from inside the room.

"You ready?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his shoulders and jumped in place, like he was hyping himself up for a cage match. "Yeah."

"Okay, we're gonna have to be fast. We have to get in, but we can't let him out."

"Got it."

Sam undid the locks lightning-quick, flipping everything back and throwing open the door with a flourish. Dean rushed in, followed by Sam, who locked what he could from this side. Plastered to the inside of the door, both of them breathing heavily, it took them a moment to notice Cas.

Cas, who was sprawled out naked on his back across the width of the bed. Cas, who had one hand gripping the base of his cock and the other thrown over his eyes. Cas, who was sporting a pair of massive, white wings with silver edges.

Both Sam and Dean stood in stunned silence for a moment. Cas panted softly on the bed, body red and burning.

"You didn't mention his--" Sam started.

"I didn't see them," Dean said. "They weren't in the images he sent me. I didn't even know he could…you know…bring them out. Aren't they supposed to be stuck on some kinda ethereal plane or something?"

"Maybe their manifestation is a side effect of the estrus?" Sam suggested.

Cas shifted and his wings stretched, and Dean noticed that it wasn't one pair, but _three_. Cas had three sets of new limbs jutting from his back.

 _Dude really is an angel_ , he thought dumbly. A thought which was quickly followed by, _Sonofabitch. What have I gotten myself into_?

"He looks in bad shape," Sam said, whispering directly into Dean's ear.

He knew that was his cue, that he was here to make sure Cas didn't end up in _worse_ shape, but he still hesitated. "He's not gonna hate me when this is over, is he?"

Sam chuckled softly behind him. "This is Cas."

How could three little words carry so much meaning?

Dean tightened the belt on his robe, still not ready to bear it all in front of his brother, and slowly approached the angel, palm outstretched. "Cas? Buddy? I'm here to help you."

Cas didn’t say anything, didn't move. But his grip on his cock tightened.

Cas's legs hung over the side of the bed, and Dean settled in between them, kneeling on the floor.

Dean's mouth watered as he breathed in pure horny-angel. He immediately felt high--his mind fuzzy. A renewed surge of blood pumped its way between his legs with a delicious throb. "God, I want you so bad," he whispered, hoping Sam couldn't hear.

Behind him, he could hear his brother shuffling away from the door, moving toward the single, high-backed chair that occupied the far corner of the room. There was a mild _thunk_ as Sam set the bag of supplies on the floor.

 Tentatively, Dean splayed his hands over Cas's thighs. They were thick, and hot, and the hair was rough even to Dean's calloused fingers. Slowly, he slid his hands toward Cas's pelvis, and the journey was both exquisite and excruciating.

Biting his lip, Dean clamped down on a particularly lewd groan.

He was finally touching him. He finally had his hands on him.

When Cas didn't immediately smack him away, Dean grew bold. He leaned in, pushing his nose into Cas's crotch, next to the angel's fist. For a moment, he simply breathed him in. But it wasn't long before he noticed that Cas's legs were _scorching_ beneath his hands. Dean had to help him find his first release, _now_.

Without another thought, Dean closed his eyes and lifted up, wrapping his lips around the head of Cas's cock.

Cas didn't thrust up, but he _roared_. There was something other-worldly about the sound, and Dean was sure he was hearing it both with his ears and inside his head.

Now that he was touching him, the double sensations were muted, but not completely gone. Dean felt a phantom of his own mouth on his cock.

 _Fuck. Fuck yes_.

Dean lowered himself further. It had been over a decade since he'd blown a guy, but he was sure he could still deep-throat with the best of them. He pushed down, down, savoring the silk-over-steel feel of Cas's cock beneath his tongue. He tasted musky, and somehow sweet, and Dean's mouth watered with abandon. When he made it all the way to Cas's fist--nearly the full length of what had to be an eight-inch dick--he pulled back, letting the cock pop free with a slurp.

His own dick was so on edge, he had to yank his robe away from it. Every slide of the fabric over his cock head, combined with Cas's dick in his mouth and the ghostly sensation of lips on his prick, drew him closer and closer to the finale. But he couldn't come yet. Cas needed him hard.

"Come for me Cas," he commanded, voice husky, before he slipped his mouth over that hot dick once more. He worked the shaft, bobbing swiftly up and down, sucking with what he was sure was just the right amount of pressure. The large vein on the underside of Cas's dick throbbed against Dean's tongue.

 _Come on, angel. Come on_.

Castiel groaned, his body bowing. The first hot stripes of jiz in Dean's mouth took him by surprise, but he gulped them down greedily.

Sam made some sort of strangled noise behind him, but Dean didn't have a chance see what the problem was.

In the next instant, Cas was scrambling upright. His prick popped out of Dean's mouth, smearing come down Dean's chin. Still shooting the last of his load, Cas crouched up on the bed with wings outstretched, filling the room over Dean's head with feathers and _power_. Cas's gaze pierced Dean's--and it was _hungry_.

Startled, Dean fell backward and scurried to Sam's feet.

Sam shot out of the chair, grabbing the angel blade to hold at his side. As Cas took his first predatory step off the mattress, Sam yanked Dean to his feet.

Castiel had his head lowered, regarding the Winchesters with one eye as he cocked his head to the side.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, clutching at his brother, fisting his t-shirt. He bumped into Sam's crotch with his hip and felt an unmistakable hard-on. But there were more pressing matters at the moment. "Is this okay? Sam?"

"I don't--I don't know, Dean. Talk to him."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the one who just had his dick in your mouth."

Castiel took another step forward. He didn't move like Cas--not like a human. His gait was wide, and he threw each leg outward in an arc as he walked. His wings were surprisingly expressive, each fluttering and puffing independently. The flight feathers of the lowest set dragged along the floor behind him like a train.

There was something both reptilian and avian to the display.

"Cas," Dean said, his voice low with a warning. "Cas, it's me. It's us. Sam and Dean."

The angel didn't say anything, just continued with his stalking advance.

"Cas. Cas, it's _us_."

He was nearly within arm's reach, but still moved with slow calculation. Sam and Dean backed away until they found the wall and had nowhere else to go.

When there was less than a foot between them, Cas lashed out, grabbing Dean by the hair and tugging hard, making Dean expose his throat.

Dean felt Sam raise the angel-blade, but he batted his brother's hand down. "No. Don't."

"But, _Dean_ ," Sam said softly.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said calmly from his bent position. "You're not gonna hurt me, are you, Cas?"

With his free hand, Castiel pulled at the belt on Dean's robe, flicking it to the side so that the housecoat fell open.

He swept Dean's body with that hungry stare, his gaze lingering below the waist. His eyes met Dean's once more before he growled out a single word:

" _Mine_."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay babes, because tonight's episode was so...Buckleming...I know you all could use a little porno therapy. So--extra update!
> 
> This is smut. Really graphic smut.

Dean gulped, and to his embarrassment found himself trembling from head to toe. "Yeah, angel," he conceded. "Yours."

For a moment, Cas looked past Dean to Sam, and a cold pit opened in Dean's stomach. He could see the angel calculating. Sam had said mergers often consisted of many angels, so it was easy to understand how Cas could think both humans were at his disposal.

Dean's over-protective big-brother side quickly overrode his horny-dude side, and he leaned into Cas's line of sight, recapturing his gaze. "Yours," he repeated. "But only if you leave Sam alone."

Cas glared at him, tugging harder on his hair. Dean winced, but in the next instant Cas let go.

"Mine," he said again, pushing the robe off Dean's shoulders. As the fabric pooled around their feet, Cas grabbed him by the waist and drew him in so their bodies were flush against one another. "Mine," he rumbled into the nape of Dean's neck.

Cas walked backwards, away from Sam, forcing Dean to take awkward steps to stay pressed against him.   After a moment, the top set of wings came down, sliding over Dean's shoulders, shielding the pair of them slightly from sight.

Before Dean had time to really enjoy Cas's cock prodding his belly--or his cock prodding Cas's belly--Cas spun around behind him, then forced him down on all fours. Dean's knees and elbows hit the thinly-carpeted cement with a bruising _thud_. Immediately, Cas's cock settled in the cleft of Dean's ass.

Dean's heart pounded a million miles a second. He'd never been manhandled like that except in a fight, and it took everything he had not to struggle, to push back.

"Whoa, slow down, Cas. Wait. Hold on."

Somehow, Dean hadn't gone into this thinking he'd be the bottom. Sure, he'd cleaned out in the shower, but that was more of a courtesy than anything.

_I mean,_ estrus _. He's in_ heat _. Doesn't that mean he should be the one taking it up the ass_?

_Dude, his vessel's a straight male, and he's been rutting against things all day, not shoving things up his ass. Did you really not see this coming_?

Cas draped himself over Dean, throwing an arm under his shoulders, pressing Dean tightly to his chest.

"Cas, wait," Sam said, stepping forward. "You need to prep him first or you're going to--"

Sam touched one wing. It snapped away and Cas snarled at him like a wild animal.

"You've gotta stretch me, angel." _Angel, angel--why do I keep calling him by his species_? "Sammy's right." He tried to project a mental image to Cas, tried to show him what he needed to do, with the lube and everything.

Cas nuzzled the back of his head and grunted, and Dean hoped that meant _message received_.

In another swift move, Cas had Dean up and stumbling over to the bed. He let Dean crawl atop it of his own volition, but quickly arranged him how he wanted him once Dean was there.

Turned out he wanted him face-down, ass-up. Dean angled his head toward Sam, who'd gone pale. "It's fine, Sam. I'm okay."

"I'm here Dean, say the word and I'll do whatever you need me to do." Shaking, Sam lowered himself into the high-backed chair again. The angel-blade clattered to the floor.

"Toss me the lube," Dean said.

Sam flicked it over. It landed softly next to Cas's knee.

"Okay, Buddy," Dean said, "I'm going to show you what you need to-- _ah_!"

"Oh, God," Sam groaned, sinking further into the chair.

Apparently, Castiel didn’t like the idea of lube. Oh no. Instead, he'd started _tonguing_ Dean's asshole.

It started with a few tentative licks, a light flick of the tip over his rim. Then some deep, wet stabs. Cas's tongue was long and lithe, and wriggled in past that first ring of muscle with ease. Once he'd gotten a taste, it seemed like he couldn't get enough. Soon he was eating Dean's ass like it was a pussy, burying his face between Dean's cheeks and slobbering all over his hole. And he made the most lurid sounds while he was doing it--groaning like it was the best thing he'd ever eaten.

Dean had never been rimmed like that before. A few lovers had given his ass a hesitant swipe of the tongue or two, but nothing like _this_.

This was fucking bliss.

It was so good, he could feel his balls tightening again, and a long line of precum dribbled out of his dick and onto the duvet beneath him.

After a while Cas slipped a finger in beside his tongue, then two. Saliva ran down over Dean's balls and the insides of his thighs.

Dean tried not to look at Sam, sure it would be a boner killer, but he couldn't help it when his eyes shot open after an especially deep wriggle of Cas's tongue.

Sam wasn't looking at them. He was studying the ceiling instead. But his sweatpants were fucking tented as hell.

His little brother was getting a hard-on from listening to Cas eat his ass.

Dean moaned, buried his face in the pillow, and shoved back against Castiel's eager mouth. "I'm ready, babe," he mumbled. He should have been embarrassed--letting such a sweet endearment slip out like that--but it's hard to feel any extra shame when your best-friend's mouth is slurping at your ass like there's no tomorrow.

Cas heard him. He rose up, and Dean heard the cap on the lube pop before a big, cold glob of it fell right where Cas's tongue had been.

Somehow, the sudden coldness where he was hottest nearly made him cream the sheets.

Then it was there--Cas's big fucking dick. The blunt head of it was pushing at his gaping hole. And he was so ready for it, so ready to get fucked into the mattress by this powerful, beastly creature.

"Yeah, Cas," he said. "Fuck me. Fuck me." His head had gone fuzzy again. "Sammy, he's ready to fuck me."

"That's--" Sam cleared his throat. "That's good, Dean."

The head of Cas's cock popped in easily, immediately stretching Dean. But there was no time to get used to the sensation. The long rimming session was all the adjustment time Dean was going to get. Within seconds, Cas was shoving in, seating himself to the hilt.

Dean shouted.

Cas growled.

Sam whimpered.

And then Cas's hips rolled back before slamming forward again. He grabbed Dean by the hips and set a brutal pace, pounding him over and over, high and tight.

Dean pushed back against him at first, trying to meet him thrust-for-thrust. But it soon became apparent that Cas preferred him pliant. He could keep the rhythm best on his own, slamming forward again and again, pulling only a couple inches out before thrusting forward once more.

Dean's cock felt like it was about to burst. Cas continuously rutted over his prostate, sending agonizing waves of pleasure straight through Dean's pelvis.

  _I gotta come. Oh my god, I gotta_ …

He reached for his dick and Cas grunted, batting Dean's hand away, before he pulled out of Dean completely.

"No, Cas, I didn't mean--"

With firm hand, Cas pushed Dean's hips up more, angling his hole at the ceiling. Then he lifted himself off his knees, planting a foot on either side of Dean so that he could piston straight up and down. He pushed at the top of his dick so that it pointed downward before he dropped himself into Dean.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck--" Dean chanted over and over. Cas was so deep. And he wanted him deeper, he wanted him buried all the way inside.

Cas rocked there for a moment, sitting with Dean's ass beneath him, just grinding in tiny circles.

Dean's spine strained under the weight and the bend, but he didn't care. Cas' balls were pressed against his, and the angel's dick was rubbing dean's insides in all the right places.

After a few minutes of grinding, Cas lifted up, almost straightening his legs completely--pulling out completely--before squatting again to shove deep into Dean.

"Fuck," Sam moaned.

And then Cas was full-on humping into him again, pushing up and sitting down, practically bouncing on (and in) Dean's ass.

Every downward thrust jolted Dean, the springs of the old mattress creaking in protest.

There was a warm rush inside him, and he realized Cas was coming again.

But did _Cas_ even realize he was coming? He never missed a beat. When he pulled up, the head of his cock spurted over Dean's back, and when he thrust down, he spurted inside.

The angel growled again, clearly pleased that he was marking Dean.

"Oh god, I'm gonna--" As a hot glob of angel come slipped down his back, Dean's balls drew up tight, forcing a surge through his cock. He came so hard, his vision whited out at the edges. Pure pleasure wracked his groin and his torso and his brain, spiraling outwards and going on for infinity.   For a moment, he wished there was a hand, or a mouth, or a pussy, or an ass, for him to shoot into.

Then he had a hazy realization. _Wait, oh fuck_.

He'd just come without his cock being touched. Cas dicked him so good, he came.

 As the waves of his orgasm abated, he still bounced. Cas still rode him.

When the angel noticed the human's mood shifting--maybe the weird telepathic thing they had going alerted him, or whatever--he roughly grabbed Dean by the balls.

"Ouch, Cas, careful, I--"

They were heavy again in an instant, and that slow dying heat flared hot and new. "Fuck, Cas. Fuck."

And fuck Cas did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all are waiting for Sam to get in on the action! Next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm gonna die_ , Sam thought _. The blood is never going to flow back to my brain and I'm gonna die_.

This was the fucking hottest porno Sam had ever witnessed, and he knew he should feel terrible. Maybe even disgusted. His brother and their non-human friend were having fucking dirty as hell sex in front of him and it should have been awful.

But his dick disagreed.

He tried not to watch. Tried to remind himself that he was here for Dean's safety. But fuck it all if he didn't want to jerk himself silly.

He rocked in the chair, pressing the base of the anal plug he'd inserted earlier against the seat, making sure the tip inside him massaged his prostate just so.

He had a plan. He hadn't told Dean about it because he knew he wouldn't approve.

Already, Cas had been fucking Dean for hours, and Dean was starting to show the strain. His entire body was red--flushed, yes, but by now he was covered in bites, claw marks, and bruises from where Cas had grabbed him to flip him around this way and that.

Right now, Cas had Dean on his back, and was frotting against him, their cocks purple between their bellies.

Bites and bruises weren't the only thing scattered across Dean's skin. Cas had come, what, twenty times by now? He'd filled Dean's ass, and coated Dean's balls, and smeared it over his chest and in his mouth and down his back. Cas was marking Dean up like he wanted him to smell like angel property forever.

Dean had come five times. And each time, after the tremors of pleasure subsided, Cas had revved him right back up using his grace.

Despite the angelic assistance, Dean's eyes looked glassy now. Like he wasn't really home and was simply awash in unearthly pleasure.

Sam wasn't sure how much longer he could last.

Cas came again, and as come dribbled from his cock, he walked up Dean's body to smear the wide head of his penis against Dean's lips. Dean took it drowsily, weakly parting his mouth to accept whatever Cas wanted to give him. Cas rumbled deep in his chest, pleased at the way Dean let the semen cover his tongue and chin.

After another moment, he dove in, licking the come out of Dean's mouth. It was the first action even remotely resembling a kiss, and Dean reveled in it, closing his eyes and attempting to kiss back like a normal person. Cas let him, then drew away after a nip at Dean's jaw.

"Angel," Dean whispered weakly. "Angel, just a minute. Let me rest for just a--"

But Cas wasn't listening. He picked Dean up like a ragdoll to lay him face-down lengthwise across the mattress, so that his head hung off in Sam's direction. Then Cas lay flush on top of him, wriggling his cock into the hole he'd so thoroughly loosened.

Sam saw an opening. He grabbed a water bottle and tossed the cap aside, then slid to his knees by the bed, in front of Dean.

"Drink," he instructed, holding the bottle as steady as he could while Dean bounced up and down--Cas driving into him hard.

Dean took what he could, most of it dribbling down his face and onto the floor.

"Sammy, I don't know if I can--"

"I know. You're doing so well, though." Dean's hair was plastered to his forehead from sweat, and Sam brushed it up and away. "I'm proud of you." He really was. Pride surged through him, overwhelmed him. Here was Dean holding on, doing what he could for Cas, wanting him, yes, but ultimately wanting to save him.

Dean was so good at that. So good at giving himself.

Cas slowed for a moment, thrusting long and deep, allowing Dean's body to still, to cease bouncing.

"So proud…" Sam said again, searching Dean's face as a swell of need knotted his chest.

Their eyes locked. Dean's gaze was hazy, but heated. His bottom lip was plumb and shiny from the water and come.

Maybe it was the stench of sex in the air.

Maybe it was the angel-pheromones.

Or maybe Sam had always wanted to do it…

Either way, he grabbed Dean roughly by the chin and kissed him. No tongue, but a firm press of their mouths.

Sam hated himself instantly. He shouldn't have taken advantage of him like that…there was nowhere for Dean to go.

But Dean didn't get mad. He didn't pull away. He didn't spit on the floor in disgust. Instead, his lips gently returned the caress.

It was the most chaste thing to happen in this room in the last day, and yet Sam knew it was the dirtiest.

He let himself savor the moment, eyes closed, then stood abruptly. "I'm going to help," he said, whisking off his t-shirt.

"No, Sammy," Dean protested weakly as Cas shifted again, fucking him more roughly. "You don't have to. You're not even shot up with sweet angel perfume, why--?"

"He's my friend, too," Sam said, yanking his sweatpants off. His dick was long and curved, and he fisted it a couple times, so happy to have it free.

"But you're not even prepped--"

"Yes, I am," he said firmly, before crawling onto the bed.

Cas stilled then, skeptical. He sat up, pulling Dean with him, holding him tight to his chest with his cock still up his ass. Dean was limp in his grasp.

"You have to tell him it's okay," Sam said. "He remembers what you said."

Cas's hand went to Dean's throat, lifting his chin. With a grunt, he bent to sink his teeth into the nape of Dean's neck. Dean cried out weakly.

"Mine," Cas growled around his mouthful.

Sam swallowed, worried for his brother. All it would take was one possessive clamp of those teeth… Cas could bite into Dean's jugular without meaning to. "Tell him, Dean. He thinks I'm trying to take you away from him."

"Sam, you don't have to--"

"Dean, I _want_ to. Please, just let me…" He gulped again, dryly, wondering if Dean's reluctance had to do with the kiss. "I won't…I won't touch you, if that's what you're worried about. I promise. I'm sorry."

Dean's eyebrows lifted sadly. "That's not…"

"I get it. One line too many crossed. But you have to let me help you. Both of you."

With a light nod and a trembling lip, Dean breathed out softly. "Cas," he whispered, reaching out to stroke the flight feathers within reach. "Sammy wants to play. He can play. You can have him, too."

Cas perked, his eyes flicking up to meet Sam's, but his bite remained firm.

"But you have to let Dean rest for a while," Sam said carefully, "He needs to drink something, for real. And eat."

Cas didn't budge.

Then Sam realized, _I need to show him_.

He slowly fisted his cock, wringing a bead of precum out of the tip. He smeared it over the head with his thumb, letting himself moan when the sensations ran through him. Then he dropped onto his back, angling his ass at the angel so that he could see what Sam was doing.

Dean's eyes went wide when he saw the base of the anal plug. "Slut," he teased.

"I'm not the one who just let a dude pile-drive me for four hours."

"Oh, but you're about to."

Sam gulped.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing! Thank you for the comments and the kudos!
> 
> Heads up, brief mentions of underage here as Sam remembers his teenaged exploits.

As Sam began wiggling the anal plug free, Cas loosened his grip on Dean. His teeth left a raw-yet-perfect crescent on Dean's throat, and when the angel saw what he'd done, he immediately began lapping at it soothingly, as though in apology. Dean twisted in his arms and lifted Cas' chin, so that they were finally looking at one another. For a moment, at least, Cas seemed to really _see_ Dean. There was a glimmer of true recognition and confusion.

"Hey," Dean said softly, a warm smile reaching his eyes.

The angel's brow furrowed, like he wasn't sure where he was. "Dean?" Dean shifted in his lap and Cas' eyes went wide--the two of them were still joined. "What's--?"

"We're taking care of you," Dean told him, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Me and Sammy." He nodded over to where Sam was finally pulling the plug away.

The sight of a new, willing hole appeared to pull Cas back into his beast-like state. His pupils dilated and he hummed in approval. He turned to Dean again with a wicked grin, grabbed him by the back of the head and kissed him crudely, grinding up inside him.

"No," Sam said firmly, lubing up his fingers and shoving them inside himself. It felt so fucking fantastic. "My turn."

Cas heard and obeyed, lifting Dean off his lap while still kissing him. Dean gasped when the angel's cock slid free, but Cas wouldn't let him go completely. He still plundered his mouth, like he was loath to lose contact.

Sam knew what he really wanted: both of them. He wanted his mouth on one and his dick in the other. _Probably thinks this one-at-a-time crap is bullshit_.

Sam just needed to entice him to let go of his current toy.

The anal plug had done its job well. He felt stretched and ready. As he swiftly inserted a third finger, then a fourth, he let himself moan loudly, lewdly. His cock twitched wildly against his belly, smearing precum across his lower abs. He found his prostate and rubbed it just so.

"I want you, Castiel," he said through gritted teeth, imploring the angel with his eyes. "Please. Need you inside me. Come on, don't you want to fuck another hole? Mark another human? Fuck me, Castiel." He planted his feet and lifted his ass. The base of his balls were covered in lube now too, and he pulled his fingers out to grab them, lift them aside so Cas could get an eyeful of his boy-pussy.

That was what he used to make guys call it, and he missed saying those words. He'd never told Dean he'd been with guys--not just guys, older men--because, well, Dean had this perfect picture of little Sammy in his head. Big brother thought Sally Halt had been his first when he was seventeen, when really it had been Dad's hunting buddy, Juan Pablo, when he was fifteen.

"Fuck me in my boy pussy," he whined, voice much higher than usual. "Fuck my pussy good, Cas."

Dean's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Even in his tired, blissed-out state, he was shocked.

But Sam didn't care. Not when Cas was leering at him, hands and mouth lifting away from Dean, leaving his first lover to crawly like a big cat toward his next.

"Sammy..." Dean whispered, and it sounded both like a pained question and newfound awe.

Cas's feathers slid over Dean's body as he moved, and Dean's eyes rolled back in his head. Dean stroked the wings as they passed by, nuzzling the top of one joint. Then he stepped off the bed, stiffly, wobbly. Using the nightstand for support, he stumbled to Sam's supply stash.

Cas settled himself over Sam's body just as Dean swiped up a full water bottle, which he immediately upended over his face and chest. Sam's dick pulsed as Cas lowered himself; both the heat of the angel's body and the sight of wet-Dean made his cock strain and need like it never had before.

He buried his face is Castiel's neck, encircling him in his arms, pulling him down tighter. He remembered the first time he'd touched Cas--a grasping handshake turned into a gentle hold. He'd been ecstatic, humbled, in the presence of such divinity then, and he felt the same now. Though he was bigger than Cas in body, he could sense the size, breadth, and depth of the creature within its smaller human confines. Cas was so much _more_ \--a bursting energy only hinted at by the appearance of his other-worldly wings.

_That_ was what he was asking to fuck him. _That_ was what was about to be inside him.

Cas cradled him more gently than he expected. And when the angel pulled away so that he could hook a hand under each of Sam's knees to angle him better, Sam noted a new sheen of moisture on Cas's neck.

The same moisture caked Sam's eyelashes.

He blinked back the tears, tried not to let out a self-deprecating laugh. He couldn't help but be overwhelmed; this powerful, pure creature needed him. Needed him in a carnal way.

With his body--the body he'd always thought unclean--Sam could help save _an angel_.

Cas's cock nudged at his entrance, and their eyes locked. There was a reverence in that gaze that Sam didn’t feel he deserved.

"Sam," Cas breathed--the edge still beastly, but soft--before he thrust in firmly, sinking himself balls-deep in one strong go.

Sam hadn't felt this full in so, so long. He cried out, one hand gripping Cas' bicep, the other curled above his own head, clawing at the duvet.

Cas pulled back, and the long drag of his cock over Sam's prostate seemed to last forever. Sam tossed his head back, exposing his throat, mouth open. The slow push back in was just as exquisite, and Sam tried not to pray, tried not to give a rapturous call to Cas with his mind.

A short, "Ha," from Dean pulled him out of his veneration.

Sam was loath to look away from the angel, but needed to make sure Dean was alright.

His brother sat in the chair, still naked, legs splayed wide, spine slack. His pectorals gleamed with water, and rivulets had run down his treasure trail to make his pubic hair glisten. His cock, used as it had been, stood ready nonetheless, thick and rosy between his legs.

"Fucks me like a dog," Dean croaked, "But with you, he acts like it's some sort of holy right."

"You two have--" Sam started, but Cas pulled out again before slamming back. "You two have been waiting to fuck a--" _Slow out, quick in_ \-- "a long time. It was the dam bursting. This--ah, uhn--" Cas picked up the pace, threading one hand through Sam's hair while he mouthed at Sam's bared throat. "This is _new_."

Dean pulled a face, ready to deny that there had been any sort of sexual tension between him and Cas. But, at the last minute, he clearly thought better of it. He'd already had Cas's dick in his ass, why deny those feelings now?

Dean swiped an apple from the supplies, examining it slowly while Cas started to fuck Sam faster, less gently.

Sam didn't hold himself back. He'd always been expressive during sex, and saw no reason not to encourage Cas, to let him know that Sam had chosen this, wanted it. His moans were heavy, base, his words were whisper-light and an octave higher than expected. "You feel so good, Cas. So deep. Yes, touch me there. There. Want your hands, want it all."

Cas's fingers trailed away from Sam's hair to fall at his lips. Sam immediately sucked them in, groaning around them, hollowing his cheeks like they were a cock.

Dean took a loud, messy bite of his apple, the juices squirting down his chin like so much jizz. Cas turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. Sam's gaze followed.

Dean ran a hand down his chest then, over his abdominal muscles, to grasp tightly at the base of his cock. Without a word, he took another lurid bite. Cas never paused in his fucking.

_What the hell is Dean doing_?

It was almost like...was he _jealous_?

"Dean," Sam said, letting go of Cas's fingers. It wasn't a moan, it was a warning.

"What?" he grumbled around another mouthful of sinful apple.

Dean's tease seemed to bother Cas, who ducked his head into Sam's neck. Cas grabbed Sam's hips, slamming in hard and staying there, rutting tightly, like he was trying to get deeper, _deeper_. "You're--ngh--You're supposed to be resting," Sam chided.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Dean asked, annoyed, as juice dripped from his chin to his chest.

"Like you're trying to get him to come to you," Sam said frankly.

"Shut up."

"No? Then what are you doing?"

"Distracting myself."

"From what?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening, turning dangerously pointed. "You forgot about something when you volunteered, Sammy." His hand pulled a long stroke down his shaft. "I can feel what he feels."

Sam groaned and turned his face toward the ceiling, cheeks burning with a swift blush. Dean could feel the echo of _him_ \--the ghost of what it felt like to be inside _Sam_.

"You're tight," Dean growled. "But not as tight as I'd..." he trailed off, clearly not wanting to imply he'd thought about how tight Sam's ass should be.

"Not my-- _ah_ \--not my first rodeo," he confessed as Cas hit him with a particularly strong thrust.

Dean tossed the apple core aside and ran his cleaner hand over his eyes. "God damn it, kid, I thought I knew everything about you. Why didn't you ever--?"

Sam let out a clipped laugh. "Yeah, like you needed an excuse to make more dick jokes."

"Well, son of a bitch," Dean said, sounding like his world had just been turned inside out.

Cas pulled all the way out, slapped the head of his cock against Sam's hole a few times, then glided back in to the base. All three of them moaned in appreciation. Cas grinned, clearly pleased to bring them pleasure.

Sam wanted to kiss that smile--it was so rare to see Cas smile, after all--but he hesitated. Because he wouldn't just be kissing Cas.

He glanced at Dean again, telegraphing his movements, giving Dean the opportunity to tell him not to.

Dean's gaze narrowed, his lips pursed thoughtfully, but he said nothing.

_Am I really...? Is he just going to sit there and let me...?_

With a hand on the back of Cas's head, Sam drew the angel in, pulled him down, until their lips collided. It wasn't gentle, wasn't _chaste_. He slipped his tongue into Cas's mouth with ease, taking, demanding, eating him up--eating them _both_ up. Cas gave as good as he got, growling in the back of his throat, one hand propping him up, the other wandering down Sam's pecs and abs, savoring the feel of him.

When they parted, it was Dean who gasped like he was coming up for air.

"Fuck, Sammy," he said, sounding pained.

But Sam didn't look at him, he held Cas's gaze. "Come in me, Cas," he demanded.

The angel grunted, sitting back on his haunches with Sam in his lap--Sam's legs wrapped around his waist--as he rocked into him.

"That's it, Cas, fuck my pussy. Come in my tight little pussy."

Castiel's eyes flared blue, and his wings snapped outwards--grand, flexed, dominating--as he spilled into Sam.

The rush between his thighs nearly sent Sam over the edge, but he tugged at his cock for good measure, swiftly finding his own release. The high was so good, so complete, for a moment he thought he'd never come down.

He hadn't yet found himself again when a strong hand palmed his testicles and filled them once more, leaving them heavier than when they'd started.

Cas flipped him onto his stomach, tossing the younger Winchester with ease. _Here we go_ , Sam thought in a daze as Cas dragged the tip of his hot tongue up the ridge of Sam's spine. _How long can I last_?

From somewhere in his peripheral, Dean let out a choked sob.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean had never understood why anyone would call an orgasm a "small death"--until now. And it wasn't just his own orgasms that made him feel like he was dying. Watching Cas take from Sam--drawing from him a feral energy that seemed to only make the angel's hunger for their bodies grow--stole the air from Dean's lungs. And watching Sam give, seeing him unravel when he came, was a fucking religious experience if Dean had ever had one.

The two of them were taking little slices off his soul with every writhing curl, every gasp and soft scream.

And as much as he'd tried to rest, he couldn't take it anymore. He could _feel_ them, and it made his skin itch.

Cas had Sam bent in half, his legs slung over the angel's shoulders. Their foreheads were pressed together, and Cas rocked slowly, but forcefully. They looked like they were making love, and Dean wasn't going to let them leave him out.

It had only been two hours. Sam looked like he could go another few rounds without needing to tap out, but Dean didn't care. Even after everything--getting bit up, tossed around, slathered in come, the whole nine yards--he still wanted Cas. He could still smell him, still taste him, and everything in Dean's being cried out for _more more more_.

As he rose from the chair and shuffled over to the bed, Cas came in Sam's ass--full body shuddering, wings fluffing. He thrust into him a few more times, as though shoving his come as deep inside Sam as he could get it.

Sam kissed Cas like it hurt _not_ to, like he was thanking him for being inside him and begging him to stay.

"Come on, angel. That's enough with Sam," Dean said, trying to sound nonchalant, like he was just doing his duty. "Come on. Come back to me."

Cas lazily broke Sam's kiss, turning his head slowly toward Dean with a secretive smile. When he caught Dean's eye he held it while he dove in to kiss Sam again, pressing the younger Winchester close.

Dean scooted up next to them on the soiled duvet, putting a tentative hand on Cas' shoulder. He worried Cas would snap at him, like he had Sam. That he would hoard Sam, bite him possessively, like he had Dean.

Dean's throat still felt raw.

But the angel's expression was self-satisfied, as though he had a plan and the humans were playing into it. His eyes were dark, sharp--lust filled and predatory.

Dean shivered, but didn't back down. "Time to tap out, Sammy," he said to his brother.

"No," Sam protested, "You've done enough. It's not your turn."

"Better one of us take a shorter turn and get fully rested than to have us both dead on our feet, right?"

"No, Dean," Sam insisted, like he did whenever Dean was being belligerent. "I can take it for as long as you did."

"Not gonna happen little brother."

Cas sat up as Dean moved closer, holding onto Sam's hips, pressing himself in deep and thrusting in tiny circles.

Keeping his eyes open, Dean tentatively kissed Cas on the cheek, attempting to coax his attention away from Sam. "Come on," he said sweetly, cupping Cas's jaw to turn his head, to find his lips and mumble against them. "Take me again. Have me." He leaned back, laying himself out alongside Sam, urging the angel to follow him. "That's it. Good boy. Come back to me."

Sam gasped as Castiel's cock slipped free.

A deep rumble of satisfaction vibrated through Cas's chest as he leaned over Dean to return his kisses, sloppily devouring his mouth. Dean tried not to let out an equally satisfied sigh, tried not to think about how he could taste Sam on Cas's lips. He wrapped his arms around Cas's shoulders, threading them through his wings, urging him to let all of his body weight collapse onto Dean.

But Cas resisted, pulled away. Sitting back on his haunches, the angel's gaze flickered between the Winchester's vulnerable bodies.

"See, he knows you need more down time," Sam said smugly. He stretched luxuriously, clearly savoring the dull throb in his over-worked joints. That throb hadn't yet turned into ache for him, like it had for Dean.

"He doesn't know shit," Dean said, eyeing Cas right back, trying to figure out what he was waiting for. "Would have fucked me into oblivion if you hadn't stepped up." He propped himself up on his elbows. "So, what's the big idea?" he said to Cas. "Come and get it. What are you waiting for?"

With a smirk, Cas shoved them each aside, off the bed. Both of them stumbled, just barely landing on their feet.

"Hey! No, really, _what's the big idea?_ " Dean caught himself on the nightstand, upright and whirling in an instant. He wanted to be snarky, bite out a retort about angels being dicks, but instead of angry, he felt rejected, and worried. "What's he doing?" he asked Sam. "Isn't it working? He's been coming, but are we...are we not enough?"

Bless Sam. Even with his dick straining and purple, balls heavy, he could still strike a pensive pose. "He looks better. Before we started he was practically catatonic. He might be coming back to himself now. Realizing it's us..."

_And he didn't want this_ , Dean realized, stomach twisting. _He asked us not to come in, he told us not to disturb him, he_ \--

But Cas didn't look disgusted or disturbed. He preened, in fact, stretching his wings, fluttering them ever so slightly, before he shuffled to the middle of the bed so that he had enough room to sprawl out on his back. His wings twitched as he made himself comfortable, and once he settled in, he took hold of his dick at the base--making sure it stood tall--while at the same time parting his lips and wetting them.

Both Winchesters stood still, waiting. After a moment, Cas grunted in frustration, thrusting up into the empty air, sliding the fingers of his free hand into his mouth to suck them down.

"I think...it's an invitation?" Sam said hesitantly.

"For what? It's not like he hasn't manhandled us ten ways 'til Tuesday, why's he getting all coy about it now?"

Sam shrugged, throwing out his best 'sturgeon face.' Testing the waters, he shuffled forward a little, holding out a tentative hand. He almost laid it across one of Cas's pectorals before the angel reared up and snapped at him, teeth gnashing, just missing the tips of his fingers.

"Yeah, okay, jeez," Sam said, babbling nervously. He looked closely at his hand, which was clearly unscathed. "You try."

Dean sniffed loudly and rolled his shoulders, then inched forward, cooing to Cas as he went. "Hey buddy, don't get all snippy with Sammy. Easy now. You're fine, we're fine, we can just keep--"

Cas twisted away from his touch, wings snapping, teeth bared.

Dean scurried backward. "Some invitation," he grumbled. "So, what, we back off until he looks like he's about to combust again?"

Sam cupped his balls, adjusting his stance, and frowned sadly. "I guess so."

But that didn't seem to please Castiel either. As they each retreated to a corner, he whined, voice high and tight in his throat, eyes clamped shut. He fisted himself in clear frustration.

Dean's heart constricted. He didn't know what Cas needed. If the stupid feral angel would only use his goddamned words... "Tell us what you need, Castiel," he demanded, using the gruff voice he usually reserved for summoning rituals and exorcisms. "You have to say it or we won't understand."

Cas spread his arms, reaching out to either side, palms open. "Both."

So, now Cas wouldn't let them help unless he got them both? Fucking spoiled-ass angel.

The Winchesters stood frozen in stunned silence for a moment. Dean contemplated how they'd gotten here...how _the fuck_ had they gotten here? He shared a quick look with his brother, who had something akin to panic written across his face.

Dean's heart sunk. There was no way he was going to force Sam to do this. "It’s okay. You can leave, Sam. I'm sure he'll settle for me once you're gone, and he's not going to hurt me."

"Those teeth marks say otherwise," Sam countered. "I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving him."

"Then...?" _Me. And Sam. Fucking Cas. Together._

They broke eye contact, and Dean couldn't say whether it was out of shyness or shame.

He was going to sexually share his best friend with his brother. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Dean's gaze fell to the angel sprawled before them, and he couldn't help but admire the vessel he'd chosen.  Jimmy--rest in peace--had it going on.

Cas' abs were flexed, shiny with a dewy sort of sweat. His dusky nipples were tight and hard, and his cock--God, his cock was the stuff of dirty limericks through the ages. It was the kind of dick ancient people carved replicas of and gave offerings to. Dean had met plenty of fertility gods, but none that he'd ever wanted to supplicate to the way he wanted to supplicate to Cas right now.

And his mouth--dear lord, his goddammed _lips_. As soon as Dean glanced that way, noticed Cas' tongue flicking out to wet them as he waited, he knew which end he wanted.

"I'll take his mouth," he said, voice hoarse.

"Then, we're doing this? You want this?" Sam grabbed the base of his dick, knuckles going white, his body jerking forward slightly. He looked like he was trying to stave off an orgasm.

Dean's own sac drew up tight. _Do I want to get sucked off by a certified sex god while you bounce on his dick? Uh, duh_. "Hell yes," he said. "Don't get prissy about it. Unless, hey, if your ass is too sore--"

"God no. I've wanted to sit on his cock again ever since you made him pull out."

They moved forward, each taking one of Cas's hands. Cas rumbled in approval, pure bliss smoothing over his troubled features the instant they touched him. He rubbed at Dean's pectorals, fingers ghosting over the tight muscles, teasing at his nipples. His other hand slid down Sam's treasure trail to palms the top of his dick, to press it downwards so he could delight in the way it sprang back up toward Sam's belly.

Sam was the first to crawl onto the bed again. He straddled Cas' pelvis with ease, sinking down on the angel's dick without preamble, his ass still slick with come.

"You like that, Cas?" Dean asked, taking his position near Castiel's head.

"Yes," Cas hissed, fingers now splayed over Sam's hips, holding him down, keeping him flush.

Dean was surprised, but pleased, to get a coherent answer.

Cas turned his head, eyes dark and wide, to meet Dean's gaze--and to part his lips for Dean's cock.

Precum splurted from Dean's slit as he shuffled closer. Instead of slipping himself right in, he rubbed his cock head on Cas' lips, shivering in awe at the way his fluids made Cas' mouth shiny. After a moment, Cas stuck his ridiculously long tongue out, and Dean lightly smacked his cock on it, over and over, loving the feel, the sound, everything about it.

"God, that's so hot," Sam blurted, blushing as soon as he said it, averting his eyes when Dean tried to meet them.

Cas agreed. He thrust up hard, and Sam cried out, throwing his head back.

Dean watched as a single droplet of sweat rolled down Sam's throat, just past his adam's apple.

_They're both so fucking beautiful. Goddamn, why do they have to be built like Grecian statues with horse cocks_?

Dean couldn't wait any longer. He pressed forward, and Cas invited him in, relaxing his jaw. Dean slid half way in before Cas started suckling at him. From the angle Dean was at--sitting beside Cas--it was the best Cas could do, the most he could swallow down.

But Cas wasn't satisfied with that.

He grabbed for Dean's hips, pushing him this way and that, until he sat directly behind Cas, one knee on either side of the angel's head, so that Dean and Sam were facing each other over his supine form.

"Yessir," Dean mumbled jokingly, letting Cas put him where he wanted him. He looked up to see Sam's hips moving in tiny circles against Cas' pelvis, hands braced behind himself on Cas' legs, which made his cock thrust forward.

Cas then reached up to wrap his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him down, taking his cock. He kept pulling, forcing Dean to lean forward over his body, so that he could get Dean's cock as far down his throat as possible.

_Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck_.

Cas, being a celestial, had no gag reflex, and no need to breath. He could take Dean as deep as a sword swallower, with his lungs as still as a free diver's. His nose pressed into Dean's balls, his bottom lip brushed the base of Dean's belly, and because of the position, Dean bent forward, nearly falling onto Cas' stomach.

Cas swallowed, and Dean lost it.

He didn't come, but he surrendered. He'd never had someone take him so deep before, had never had a throat squeezing him quite like his. He tried to keep himself propped up, but Cas still had him encircled in his arms, and as he pulled him tighter--urged him deeper--Dean lost his balance.

He pitched forward across Cas' body, directly into Sam's space.

The wet tip of Sam's hot cock slid across his cheek, leaving a line of precum.

Sam froze.

Dean froze, mouth agape in shock.

Their eyes locked.

Sam looked like he was about to bolt. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry Dean, I didn't mean--"

Dean hated that look--it was Sam's patented _I'm unclean_ look. The look he got whenever he was sure he'd done something terrible when he'd done nothing wrong. Dean would do anything to make that look disappear forever. Anything.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

"Shut up," Dean said quietly, before turning his head to close his lips over the head of Sam's cock.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are wonderful! Thank you for all the comments and kudos! Keep 'em coming :-)

When Dean fell forward, Sam hadn't really been paying attention. Cas inside him felt so good, he'd been focused entirely on the angel's cock. But then he felt a stubbled slide against his dick, and his eyes popped open to reveal the horrible truth.

There was Dean, bent forward, eyes wide--stunned--a glistening line of Sam's precum marking his cheek like a fresh cut. It might as well have been a line of blood, what with the amount of anxiety the little wet stripe ignited in Sam.

 _I told him I wouldn't touch him. I promised. I_ \--

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Dean, I didn't mean-- I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry--"

Dean looked at him with a sharpness Sam thought was anger.

"Shut up," Dean commanded, voice rough and gravel-filled. Then he turned his head--not away from Sam, but _towards_ him. Dean's lips--his perfectly bowed lips that people had commented on for as long as Sam could remember (whether it was a trucker yelling at him to "get his cock-sucking lips over here" or a wholesome college girl telling him "I wish my lips were as full as yours")--those lips wrapped around the crown of Sam's cock.

It was a bold, yet tentative move. There was something experimental, rather than lusty, about the way Dean hollowed his cheeks. Like he was trying Sam's cock out, not sure how he felt about it yet.

Dean's mouth was hot and wet, and Cas' cock was thick and deep. Sam's fingers itched to grab Dean's hair, to pull him forward until he was choking on Sam's dick.

But then Dean pulled back with a small gasp, like he'd only just realized what he was doing. "Is this...is this okay?" he asked thickly.

Sam reached forward, pressing his thumb to the bow of Dean's bottom lip. He expected his brother to retreat, but Dean held fast, mouth open, eyes wide.

"I want it if you want it," Sam said, still needing to give Dean a chance to opt out, because he knew if they crossed this line on purpose--if they consciously made this decision, if they _chose_ this intimacy--there'd be no going back.

They would have to deal with the emotional consequences, angel pheromones be damned. They could not blame this on Cas.

Dean swallowed dryly, his gaze vulnerable, his cheeks turning pink.

 _You don't have to,_ was half a second away from escaping Sam. He didn't want Dean to feel obligated, didn't want Dean to feel dirty. Didn't want Dean to feel anything but good.

God, he wanted to make him feel good.

Cas gulped around Dean's dick and Dean's eyes closed blissfully. When they opened again, his expression shifted from uncertain to determined. "Moan for me, Sammy," he demanded, before easing Sam's cock into his mouth once more.

Sam couldn't have kept quiet if he tried. Everything about Dean's mouth was exquisite. He sucked with just the right amount of pressure, drooled just enough to make it slick, lathed his tongue in all the right places.

Sam gritted his teeth, trying not to come yet, needing to make it last.

Cas seemed to realize the Winchesters had made a sexual connection. His whole body shuddered, and he unlooped his arms from around Dean to massage at his ass cheeks instead. And he began to move his hip steadily, greedily, but not forcefully enough to jar Dean and put Sam's cock in danger.

The three of them were a triangle of touch, or perhaps a circle. A perfectly connected halo of pleasure.

Sam spread his palm between Dean's shoulder blades, balancing steadily between the two men. Cas thrust up, pushing him forward into Dean's eager mouth, then pulled back, letting Sam descend slightly, slipping his cock nearly all the way out from between Dean's lips before beginning the cycle again.

Cas's wings began to twitch erratically, which meant he was close. Sam thought he'd pick up the pace, slam into him harder and suck Dean more forcefully, but instead he lifted Dean up, gasping reflexively as the human's cock escaped his mouth.

Dean, in turn, let go of Sam with a slurp. Sam nearly cried with the loss--he'd been so close, so ready to come in his brother's mouth.

But Cas wasn't completely repositioning, he just wanted to eat Dean's ass. He maneuvered him onto his face, growling as he delved deep between his cheeks.

Dean sat up, whole body flushed--cock rose-pink with the head nearly purple, absolutely dripping with Cas' saliva. He began fisting his length, eyes gone glassy, pleasure overriding everything.

Sam's hand went to his own cock--his cock that was shiny with spit. _Dean's_ spit.

Dean's mouth was just as wet, lips plump from working so hard at blowing his brother.

As Cas began thrusting more forcefully into Sam, Sam caught Dean's gaze and held it. Both Winchester's stroked their cock's in time with Cas' thrusts, reveling in the hearty growls and needy grumbles the angel was making.

When Cas came this time, it was different. There was an unmistakable flare of grace, a blue-and-white shockwave billowing out from his body in all directions, flowing through the Winchesters and triggering their orgasms simultaneously.

Both Sam and Dean cried out in surprise as they came, balls drawing up quick and tight, forcing them to shoot hot and thick and far.

Sam jumped slightly as the first warm rope of Dean's come landed across his cock and wrist, and extra shockwaves of bliss rolled through him when he registered the fact that he had _Dean's come_ on _his cock_. He fisted himself through his orgasm, welcoming every new drop of Dean's semen, rubbing it into the skin of his dick, reveling in the way it slicked him up.

Dean did the same, and the sight drove Sam wild. Dean's hand, and cock, and balls, were now sticky with Sam's jiz.

He didn't even need Cas to replenish his passion at this point. Sam bent forward, descending on Dean's dick with his tongue, licking up traces of himself and Cas. He pressed the flat of his tongue to Dean's slit just in time to received one last sloppy splurt.

Dean made a strangled, needy sound, like the sight and sensation of Sam licking him had broken his brain.

Maybe it had. _Sam's_ brain certainly felt broken. He wanted nothing more than to fuck Dean and Cas until the end of eternity. Let the next apocalypse find the three of them here, like this, making magic with each other's bodies.

He welcomed it when Cas sent a flare of grace through him, filling his sac once more. Only this time, they felt heavier, almost painfully full, like they were carrying twice the semen they normally did.

His balls might have felt bigger, but Dean's definitely _looked_ bigger.

Cas wanted more. More come. More of them. _More more more_.

"God, angel, what did we do to deserve this?" Dean asked reverently as Cas slid out from under them.

The three of them looked at each other, and Cas' gaze was grateful. He looked blessed, happy, as carefree as they'd ever seen him. The brothers dove forward to kiss him at the same time, resulting in a sloppy three-way of lips and tongues that Castiel reveled in.

"Mine," Cas said to Dean, then to Sam. "Mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more sex to come, and then...dun, dun, DUN...consequences. What's gonna happen when Cas' heat is over??? And why did it have an effect on Dean in the first place??? Stay tuned.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super hectic week, so super short update. Next posting should be the penultimate chapter.

Sam and Dean both lost track of how long they'd been helping Cas. Had it been a day now? Two? Cas occasionally stopped to let them eat and drink, making a game out of sucking their cocks while they tried to take care of their human needs. They never had to leave the room, though. Cas seemed to magic almost all other needs away.

They did each sleep for a spell, though to Dean it felt more like passing out than sleeping. He fell unconscious with Cas lazily trying to see just how many fingers he could get inside Dean, and woke up with Sam drooling around his soft cock, keeping it warm for him.

Sam had his eyes closed, seemed to be dozing himself. His jaw was slack, body pliant.

...Cas wasn't with them.

A hot spike of panic stiffened Dean's spine, sending him upright.

As his cock popped out of Sam's mouth, Dean rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, a million questions running through his mind. How could they have let their guard down? How had Cas removed the warding? Was he outside terrorizing Lebanon at this very moment?

Or worse...had an angel found him? Would they merge with him, or try to kill him?

Both options turned Dean's stomach.

But then the chair creaked, and a rustle of feathers soothed Dean's anxiety.

Cas hadn't left them, he'd simply let them rest.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said sleepily, still rubbing his eyes as he stumbled over to stand in front of his angel. "You scared me."

Cas sat in the chair like a ruler on a throne, wings draped around him like a thick cape. He grunted absently in acknowledgement, his gaze raking over Dean's body.

Dean felt a bit like a toddler: unsteady after an impromptu nap. And he was still drowsy, could still go down for a few more winks.

Without asking, Dean crawled into Cas' lap, pressing their chests together, straddling his thighs. The angel's ever-hard cock grazed Dean's backside, and Dean realized how _empty_ he felt. Cas had become a constant presence, inside and out. Dean was restless without him, listless without him.

With one hand on Cas' neck, Dean reached around to position the crown of Cas' cock at his entrance. He slid down with an easy sigh, feeling warm, complete, and safe.

Cas trailed gentle fingertips up and down his spine, purring into the human's ear. He didn't thrust up or swivel his hips, just held Dean. Dean, for his part, nuzzled into the crook of his angel's neck before drifting to sleep once more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, guys, for being patient with me! Work picked up, so I've been a bit preoccupied.

They were in one of the most erotic positions Dean had ever tried when it finally happened.

Sam crouched on all fours, facing the headboard, and Dean lay flush on top of him, so that their holes lined up perfectly, with Dean's cock trapped between his belly and his brother's spine. His bow legs dangled over either side of Sam's hips, framing the younger Winchester's pert ass.

Sam's back was slick with two orgasms' worth of come, and Dean reveled in the squeeze, in the wet slide. But more than the delicious pressure on his cock, he loved the way this position gave Cas equal access.

They were stacked like a layer cake in order to make it easy for Cas to switch between them.

Cas thrust into Sam a few times with a strong staccato rhythm--his hands resting on Dean's ass cheeks--then swiftly pulled out and shoved straight into Dean.

The Winchesters alternately gasped and growled, deep in a joint haze of lust, endorphins, and celestial-fueled tantric meditation.

There was no time, no space, just tastes and textures and wants and desires.

Dean was, fundamentally, a simple man. He liked simple things. Good, hearty food with few frills. Long car rides. A shower after a hunt.

If someone had asked him a few days ago what his favorite sexual position was, he would have said Cowgirl. He liked to be ridden. It was straightforward, gave his partner control, and set him at ease. It wasn't dull old missionary, but it wasn't especially adventurous, either.

He typically sought sex for comfort, not thrills.

But this? Sex with Cas, sex with Sam...

Their scents were familiar, and though he'd never laid hands on them like this before, he could have sculpted the shape of each of them in the dark (ya know, if he had an artistic bone in his body). They were his constants, his touchstones.

It only followed that sex with them was the ultimate comfort.

But it was also an adventure. It was sensory overload. It was twists and bends and a blinding-light sort of pleasure.

It was need and it was freedom and it was things Dean didn't have words for because he wasn't a prissy-ass poet...

...But it kinda made him wish he was.

Cas pulled out of his ass with a slick yank, leaving Dean fluttering and empty. But instead of keeping up his "some for Dean, some for Sam" pattern, he bent and licked a stripe from Sam's balls, over the younger man's pernium and hole, all the way across Dean's tight testicles and up, up, to the base of his spine. When both brothers groaned in appreciation, he did it again and again, each time getting sloppier, messier.

Dean burried his face in Sam's hair, and Sam tilted his head back, leaning into the nuzzle.

"You're close," Sam said hoarsely. Already he'd learned Dean's tells--his trembles and shivers. "He's close, Cas. Keep going, just like that."

Their angel showed no signs of backing down. He kneaded Dean's ass, pulling his cheeks apart on the slide up so he could wriggle his supple tongue deep into Dean's come-soaked body.

"Cas, Cas..." Dean chanted, the pleasure coiling higher and higher until his body shuddered and the tension snapped.

But it wasn't a normal orgasm.

Since they'd begun their true threeway, Castiel's orgasms had all been accompanied by massive shockwaves.

Now it was Dean's turn.

The celestial energy that he'd absorbed from Cas rebounded, sought a way back out, looking to resonate.

It moved through Sam, triggering his orgasm and a twin wave.

Everything was hot, and cold, and solid and liquid and plasma. Dean's soul felt like it had both fluttered out of his body and buried itself in his deepest recesses.

Both waves collided with Cas, and then a third wave joined the fray.

A cataclysmic sound--like the Earth opening up to swallow all of Lebanon--shook the bunker walls.

The colorless orgasmic haze left Dean in a hurry, turning his mind a sour yellow before it cleared.

"What the Hell--?" He slid off of Sam's back, moving away, ready to fight if he had to.

He turned to Cas, whose wings--those gorgeous feathers, the sturdy bones, all of which Dean hadn't gotten to play with nearly enough--turned first to leaves, then to fireflies, then to dust as they disappeared back into the ethereal realm they normally occupied.

The angel, for his part, blinked once in confusion, and when his eyes opened again, they possessed total clarity.

Just like that, the spell was broken. The heat was over.

It melted away from Dean, seeping out his fingers and toes. Unconsciously, he balled his fists, trying to hold onto the borrowed sensations.

Sam turned over, sitting up quickly. He reached out for Cas, but the angel held up a hand like he was putting up a wall.

Dean recognized Cas's expression. It was guilty, and hurt.

"I told you not to disturb me." He didn't meet their eyes. "I didn't mean for this...I didn't..."

"Don't, c'mon," Sam said soothingly. "You don't have to apologize for anything. What do you remember?"

Cas steeled himself, then looked at them sternly. "I remember everything. You were not yourselves. I didn't realize I could influence you in such a way, that I could force..." He swallowed dryly. "I'm sorry. I remember, but you don't have to."

Before either Winchester could process what he was saying, Cas reached out and tapped Sam's forehead.

"No, wait!" Dean cried as Sam slumped to the bedspread. "Cas, please, you can't take this awa--"

Dean felt warm fingertips between his brows, and then...nothing.

#

Castiel tried to erase their memories. He couldn't erase what he'd done, but perhaps he could erase the pain it must have caused them. Even at that, there was still the matter of...of sustaining them now.

But as Cas moved from Sam to Dean, he knew he hadn't done what he'd intended. He was too weak, his grace too depleted. He couldn't clean their minds, just induce sleep.

And as Dean fell next to his brother, the two of them curled together in peaceful slumber, Castiel too felt the call of unconsciousness.

He'd thought to flee...to remove the warding and heal their bodies and set them in their own beds before running away and never returning. Maybe then the Winchesters could chalk it up to a supernatural dream state.

But he had nothing left to give after his heat, no strength left to remedy his wrongs.

As his vessel's need for sleep overwhelmed him, he wondered if the Winchesters would still be there when he awoke, or if they would abandon him...or worse.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go...


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the late finish! Work's been insane; nobody tells you a book release from a major publisher is gonna be hella hectic until you have one. ;-P
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience and your comments, I really appreciate it.

Castiel's dreams were fitful; by rights, he shouldn't have dreamt at all. He dreamed Sam and Dean were furious with him. That they despised him, despised their own bodies. And it had made them...demonic.

They were both naked, but instead of shining souls they possessed oily, hazy, near-nothingnesses of ruination. They looked on him with black eyes, alternatively kissing him and spitting on him as they punished him for what he'd done. He could not see the tools of their torment--could see nothing but their nakedness--but felt something like claws or fangs digging into his grace.

Castile fought against an invisible force that held him, all the while murmuring exhausted apologies against their lips every time a Winchester came close enough.

He finally woke with a shout, and two sets of hands pinned him to the mattress.

"Cas--Cas, _stop it_."

He flailed and kicked, panicking when he realized the hands had strength he couldn't easily outmatch. Maybe it _hadn't_ been a dream--maybe, somehow, it was all real--

He opened his eyes, let the faces of the Winchesters resolve before him, but did not cease his struggling.

"Cas, come on buddy. Tell me you're still in there." Dean looked earnestly into Sam's face. "We couldn't have, like, literally fuck his brains out, right?"

Sam shot his brother a deep scowl, the kind he often used when he wasn't sure if Dean was being serious or if he was joking. It said, _stop being stupid_ , and that was enough.

When Castiel realized their eyes were clear and their souls bright and beautiful as always, he relaxed. They weren't demons, no. He was just weak. Extremely.

Typically, his grace kept the physiology of his vessel in check. Even when he felt a deep emotion, the human expressions thereof failed to make an appearance. But now, with his strength gone and his body overworked and his sins...his sins still evident on their bodies, he could not contain his sorrow.

His face grew hot and his eyes watery. He tried to speak, but the words did not come easily. He wasn't sure how his throat could stop them, but it did. They built up behind his Adam's apple like a dam, keeping his rational apologies at bay while a sad groan escaped in their place.

"Hey, hey, what is it?" Dean leaned over him, pushing the hair back from his forehead, staring deep into his vessel's eyes. "We're here, just tell us what you need."

"Leave me," he croaked out. "Leave me."

Dean's comforting hand faltered, and Sam looked to a spot on the far wall.

"If that's really what you need, we will," Sam said. "But, we know what you tried to do. We know you wanted to erase our memories, and you have to know _we_ don't want that. If anyone is to blame for, for _this_ , then it's us."

"We weren't going to let you burn," Dean said firmly, his face mere inches from Castiel's. "You would have lost the vessel if we hadn't. Why didn't you tell us that could happen?"

"It wasn't your concern," Castiel said. Hot tracks ran down both sides of his face, out of his eyes. He was crying.

Dean looked away for a moment, scoffing, then returned his gaze with a new heat in his expression. "You stupid son of a bitch, when are you going to get it? We're a _team_. You in trouble? Then we come to your rescue, no questions asked."

Sam sat cross legged, right next to Cas but not touching him. He didn't meet Castiel's eyes. "Do you still want us to leave?"

Cas pursed his lips. How? How could they be all right now? How could they give of themselves this way like it was the most natural thing in the world? "No," he said with a shaky breath. "Don't go. But you have no idea what you've done. You are tethered to me now--I will have to sustain you."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Dean said with an encouraging smile. He smoothed his hand down Castiel's crown, to wipe away a tear with his thumb.

"You will need to be dosed with angel semen at least once a week for the rest of your lives, or a similar sexual madness will take you."

Sam laughed at that, finally looking at him. "You need to have sex with us every week or else we become nymphos?"

"Essentially."  

"Buddy, I gotta tell you," Dean said, grasping Cas's hand to help him sit up. "As far as fine print goes, that ain't the worst deal I've ever gotten." He leaned in for a kiss, and Castiel startled.

Though every sexual moment was seared into his cosmic brain, Cas had thought it was all over; that, with the job finished and assurances made, the Winchesters would instantly want to go back to their usual level of familiar physicality with him.

Not so, it seemed.

He returned the kiss chastely, feeling his face flush. He'd never blushed before.

Sam's eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully. "So, if you'd erased our memories and skipped town, exactly how were you planning to 'sustain' us?"

He ran a hand over his face. "I'm uncertain. If the wipe had worked and I could have safely returned, perhaps I would have snuck it into your food so that you could ingest the proper quantities without--"

"Oh, Jesus," Dean said, pulling a face. "That's gross, Cas."

Sam burst out laughing.

Cas frowned. "I don't understand, Dean, in the course of the last forty-eight hours you ingested plenty of my semen."

"You can't just put come in a guy's food!"

Suddenly Cas doubled over, clutching his head. A penetrating sensation--not painful, but potent--ripped through his weakened being. It was a clear call, and angelic song he hadn't heard in millennia.

Dean, ever the protector, grasped his shoulders. "Shit, what now?"

"It's--it's the angels. They're singing."

"Good...?" Sam ventured.

"They're saying a new seraph has come into being."

"New...? There's a baby angel?" Dean asked. "We didn't, I mean, we couldn't have _made an angel_ , right?"

"You both have residual grace inside you, and it's entirely possible that we were able to harmonize to the point--"

"I _do not_ have any kind of residue, angel or otherwise, inside me," Dean said indignantly.

"If we conceived, you are correct, you likely no longer have--"

"No, Cas, _I've never been possessed_."

Cas frowned. Surely Dean knew...? "No, but you have had an angel inside you. You sincerely don't...? No, I see. When I rebuilt your body, I had to rebuild it around your soul--a soul that I had spent celestial _years_ struggling to pull from the Pit. The only way I'd been able to escape Hell was by encapsulating you in my grace--fully surrounding you.

"You were too weak to remain on this plane without a body--had I attempted to shift your soul from my embrace to a body after the fact, there was a chance I could have lost you. The only solution was to build your body while I still held you--to build your body around the two of us, together.

"The result was that when I left you--when I pushed myself out--I left both a handprint and a measure of my grace behind. I'm sorry Dean. Though you weren't possessed in the technical sense, you were, for a brief moment, a vessel for my grace."

Dean blinked, wide-eyed. "So I had a little bit of you with me this whole time?"

"Yes, but now you are rid of it. Now--"

"Now we made an angel," Dean said, his voice far off, almost unbelieving.

Sam abruptly leaned over, his arms splayed wide. He hooked both Castiel and his brother around the neck, drawing them in for a hug. "Better hope this new Winchester isn't as fucked up as the rest of us."

"You kidding?" Dean asked, returning the embrace, holding on to Cas as well. "Team Free Will are its papas. No way the thing's not majorly screwed from the get-out." He leaned back and punched Castiel lightly in the shoulder. "So, do we actually get to meet the new guy, or what?"

"We may, one day," Cas said. "But first they must walk their own path in Heaven. It is rare for an angel to know which angels merged to bring about its existence, and by the same token, which angels are a product of one's mergers. But I have a feeling I will know this one when I see them. I will know them by the touch of Winchester soul that will resonate in their frequencies. What you call "majorly screwed" I call an advantage. Maybe they too will find that any so-called cracks in their chassis are just a way for the love to get in."


End file.
